


A Not So Silent Night

by LadyPoly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Castiel, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Husbands, M/M, Panty Kink (masculine character still present), Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-21 22:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13153476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPoly/pseuds/LadyPoly
Summary: A Christmas Eve storm delays Dean's return to his husband who's waiting at home. Meanwhile, Castiel has been patiently waiting for his husband to open his present...





	A Not So Silent Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatwriterlady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatwriterlady/gifts), [Desirae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desirae/gifts), [xHaruka17x](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHaruka17x/gifts).



> Merry Christmas. I bring you husband's smut. All my love to you guys. Blessings for 2018 and thank you for encouraging me .  
> All my love and kisses too my partner freeagentgirl for editing. Let me know what you thought via below, on Facebook or with kudos ❤❤
> 
> Dearest Readers,
> 
> It would appear that not only were several of my works copied and posted as someone else’s and that a few people I trusted have also stolen ideas, images created and scenes.
> 
> Should you compare my stories to something I have not said was inspired by a prompt, or that someone has stolen, in the comments of the story please share it with the link, or the place it was and the writer's name or username. I will do what I can to contact them on my own if I need to. Please do not engage them yourselves. If I need help, I will sound the bat signal ;)
> 
> While I have dealt with the people involved the best I can, with the help of loyal reader’s and friends, I have to ask that you please keep this in mind. In the last several weeks it has become very clear to me that the majority of fanfic writers don't understand plagiarism. Stealing ideas without crediting, borrowing quotes, etc and claiming it as your own-- plagiarism. A form of fraud. You cannot take something blow for blow, change the setting and claim that either. An homage is also not done this way, and if you believe so-- it’s still a form of plagiarism.
> 
> When you cite the fandom, the characters etc, you show that you have given credit for the idea. What the writer does next if not stating a prompt and it’s source is their own. The canon ideas are given credit, the divergent is their own.
> 
> Now sometimes similarities inspired by scenes happen, but there is no reason why a comparison of the two should be clear. There is no reason for one writer’s voice to still be evident if you were inspired by their story while claiming your own idea.
> 
> I want to say this didn’t anger me, or hurt me but it did. It infuriated me and to be honest, I didn’t know if I should continue.
> 
> If I am slower to post things now, it is only due to feeling unsure. I am very sorry.
> 
> All my love,  
> LadyPoly

Winter storms were definitely on Dean’s least favorite items list. Coming back from work had taken an unusually long time, given that the weather was determined to make everyone late or stuck on their way home for Christmas. 

 

When he finally reaches the driveway, centered beside the pale blue house, after what feels like days--the high school shop teacher leans into the steering wheel with joyful thanks and gives her a kiss.

 

By now, he should have known better than to answer Bobby’s phone call whenever the holidays came around. Yes, the extra cash is nice, but not at the cost of his beloved Baby. Shivering, he grabs the car door handle, the snow crunching beneath his feet as he trudged his way up to the front door decorated in a big silver and blue Christmas wreath with his heavy leather coat tugged around him tightly. His old scarf stays wrapped around his neck, worn and well loved.

 

He pauses on the stairs, turning to scan the cloud cover as he admires the snow dancing down around him, already starting to color the sleek black shape of his Impala. He was so much later than he planned but as the sky gave them a white Christmas, he had taken his time. 

 

Smiling, he unlocks the door. Dean is surprised when all the lights are off rather than on and the cheerful greeting from cerulean blue eyes and a kiss like he’s used to, is nowhere to be seen or heard from.

 

Frowning, Dean tosses his keys in the dish on the charming vanity Cas hand painted periwinkle blue and artfully distressed, calling out for his husband. It’s unlike Cas not to be there when he opens the door, always prompted out of his office or his task by the low growl of the Impala’s engine.

 

“Cas?” 

 

Surveying the older home, Dean takes in the low glow of lights from the tall pine tree standing in front of the window. It twinkles, covered in golds, silvers and blues. It’s simple, a few ornaments representing geekisms they both like, proudly on display and a lopsided Angel they made together from the thousands of endless craft supplies Cas always seems to have on hand. He smiles, taking in the straightened room and the neatly stacked firewood by the unlit fireplace. 

 

“Castiel?” Dean calls out, mildly concerned and pulling his phone from his pocket as he once again checks the text message. He really hopes Cas didn’t come down with the flu, too. It seemed terrible this year--more people down than usual. His shop class before the Christmas break had seemed empty because of it.

 

_ Can’t wait to see you, our first Christmas Eve in our new home. _

 

Wandering through the dark space, he crosses the rounded archway into the kitchen, the stove light on. He realizes now that the smell from when he walked in was cinnamon and ginger, meat and apples. Set out on the table is all the cooling racks with the cookies as they wait to be decorated. In the dishes to the side, pies lay covered, his mouth watering. By the looks of it a few more in other flavors also occupy space, even mincemeat and Tourtière. Dean’s stomach growls. He is definitely glad they installed the huge stainless steel appliance, despite it being heavy and hard to lug inside without damaging the hardwood floors, when they bought it several months before.

 

He laughs to himself as he looks over it all, remembering the first Christmas disaster when they  moved into their first apartment together just before graduating. He beams at the accomplishment of Cas’ cooking task as the memory warms his chest. It was hard to believe their first Christmas living together was so many years behind them.

 

It had been so cold that year. Dean's football coat was useless, even with Castiel's large plum hoodie underneath it, as he carried his bag. Fingers already feeling numb, Dean pulled his toque as low as possible and hoped he wasn't going to turn into a popsicle as he buried his nose beneath his collar hoping not to look like Jack Frost. 

 

The only thing that was of any warmth to him was the scarf Cas knitted him, the one he insisted he’d still wear till it was string. Dean thought it was silly at first, but he’d grown attached quite quickly. It was all sorts of random colors, loud and attention grabbing but it was his, made with love by Cas and he adored it even if he wouldn’t easily admit it aloud. 

 

When he had finally reached the apartments off campus, jeans covered in snow and inside his hikers--the last thing Dean had expected to hear was the smoke alarm blaring over the Christmas music coming from the Playstation on the T.V. 

 

Castiel had meant to surprise Dean all those Christmas’ back, and it was definitely a surprising sight, as he was met with the black cloud that tasted of ash and fire. There, in the middle of it all, was Castiel desperately trying to wave the smoke out of the small window in the kitchen and into the fire escape, the oven off but the lid on the roaster toppled over revealing the black bird that he figured was once a turkey. 

 

It was blacker than even Baby was. 

 

He knew he shouldn’t have, but Dean started to laugh as he stared at something he guessed was lumpy and runny mashed potatoes on the stove, its contents spilling over and a gravy that was now definitely more stuck on than not beside it in a smaller metal pot. 

 

Poor, frantic Cas was nearly in tears, his glasses falling off his face, in a knitted navy blue sweater that had definitely seen better days and splattered with god knew what across the front.

 

Dean thought he was adorable.

 

Reaching over, he shut off the burners in the cold December air that wafted in and pulled his lover close as they stood amongst the damage that was once good intentions and dinner. He wiped Cas’ tears with a gentle thumb, laughing into his hair about how he’d never forget this for all the best adorable reasons and someday Castiel would look back and laugh as well, even if it wasn’t right now. 

 

Dean’s eyes water at the memory. 

 

They ended up ordering way too much pizza that Christmas and drank beer on the kitchen floor, both of them in stitches when they’d get to tell Sam, if they ever made it out of there and home for Christmas. 

 

It had snowed just as bad then as it is now, he realizes, both of them having been snowed in and curled up together through the entire series of Doctor Who that was out back then. They had all but eaten the last can of soup and some peanut butter when it was over several days later, but it had been worth being curled up in bed and safe together. They never made it to Christmas with his family that year, but together it was just as good. Just as special. Better, even, because it was with Cas.

 

He had asked Castiel that New Year to marry him, standing outside in the cold with Sam and their friends, tipsy on whiskey and happy as everyone cheered when Cas had accepted, his nose pink from champagne. It was hard to believe it has been five years since then, five years together before he had asked, both of them having met at the start of college.

 

Stealing a sugar cookie, Dean shovels it into his mouth and heads upstairs, shaking his head at the railing covered in green Christmas crap as the rest of the main level seems quiet. Dean moans to himself when he swallows the crumbly sweetness. 

 

Cas’ cookies are perfect, the inside of the tawny colored perfection still warm and soft. He brushes the crumbs off his shirt, peeking around the top of the stairs. There’s a low glow from beneath the Master bedroom door. He smiles, admiring the trim that continues up the door frames and around the hallway. 

 

Cas was definitely in Christmas crazy mode. He’s almost afraid now to see the rest of the house with the lights on.

 

Turning the brass doorknob, Dean peers in slowly and stops when the room illuminates in bright rainbow like colors from the center of the bed. His mouth goes dry.

 

Poised in the center of dark red silk sheets is Castiel, his husband, all bronze skin against the skimpiest, softest green lace panties he’s ever seen and wrapped up in a string of multi-colored Christmas lights. They’re laid out in all the right places, accenting certain attributes tucked into lace undergarments before the bell on the end of the red Santa hat jingles when Cas tilts his head. The red silk choker tied around his neck with the bell catches Dean’s eye, holding it there.

 

“I thought I was going to have to wait all night for you to unwrap your present,” he says lowly, voice an aroused growl. It sends shivers for an entirely new reason up and down Dean’s spine, sparking a fiery blaze inside of him as he moves slowly. 

 

He’s already removing his leather jacket, the weight of it thumping on the hardwood floor as he begins to crawl upwards on the bed. He licks his lips like a starved man, honestly unsure of where to start first as he soaks in the exquisite splendour of Cas. All of his husband looks…delicious. Better than, even.

 

Castiel snickers, falling back into the pillows when his hands start roaming to remove Dean’s t-shirt and pull it over his head. 

 

The kiss they share is slow, a greeting before Cas wraps his arm around Dean’s neck and his dearly beloved husband thumbs a nipple. It all somehow suits and looks so very Cas, blurring the lines of gender and cementing in Dean’s head that this man is hotter than any Victoria Secret Angel ever could be. 

 

It’s random, but it’s special and Dean  _ definitely _ doesn’t have any complaints.

 

The older man gasps as Dean’s mouth teases at the perking flesh, leaning towards the touch, the lace soft but rough all at the same time when he moves, pressing up into the strength of his husband’s hips and thick bow legs as they surround him. 

 

Dean tastes the heat of his lover’s skin, savors the flavors and the smell of his favorite lavender soap, sliding his hand up Cas’ strong, lean back to hold them closer together. 

 

The kiss they share could spark fires in the night of the storm, Dean’s sure of it. Each one full of passion, of memories from before, of Christmas cheer and the feeling of just being grateful for one another filling the room around them.

 

They break apart, panting, lips bruised and pink, before Dean starts mouthing Cas’ neck mercilessly. 

 

Castiel moans, pleasure running up and down his spine like lightning as his lover inhales his scent deeply, tastes the lingering sweat he felt while rolling pie shells and being in front of the oven. There’s something so feral about his husband when he does this, and it always gets him going, makes him so aroused. 

 

Castiel loves turning Dean into a crazed mess, but also loves becoming one himself under everything that Dean gives him so openly.

 

Dean makes quick work of the Christmas lights, blood roaring in his veins, kissing and nipping between the colored bulbs at the flesh he frees, muttering incoherent phrases of approval and want. If there is anything about them that they consider one of their strong qualities as a couple,  it’s this--their lovemaking. The ability to keep surprising one another, to never be boring.

 

They love with it all, love each other and still after all these years, find ways to keep it interesting and passionate.

 

Cas doesn’t think he could ever tire of this, though. He cannot fathom ever losing that spark of attraction or his love for Dean. Not now and definitely not ever. 

 

He loves Dean more than anything. 

 

“So fucking sexy, babe...Look at you, my sexy little Christmas Angel,” Dean purrs, tugging at the ribbon tied at his lover's neck. His teeth pause over Cas’ Adam's apple, licking up his collarbone and moving to trace his ear as he cups his chest, adoring the muscular shape of him, the feeling of it under the pads of his fingers as he moves upwards. He teases his husband, licking his lover’s skin as Cas wriggles, arousal pressing into his thigh as they move, hard and needy. 

 

Dean thrusts against one of Cas’ long powerful legs to return the mutual feeling he’s sporting, too, and Castiel tosses his head back with a frustrated rasp, “Waited forever Dean...please...” 

 

Dean clucks his tongue, snickering into Cas’ neck as he bites into his shoulder, causing Cas to yelp. “You said present. Presents get unwrapped, my love…and I wanna keep this one perfect.” 

 

Castiel huffs into his lover’s hair, threading his fingers through it as he also claws at Dean’s exposed skin on his back with his free hand. 

 

“You still smell like pie, Angel. Mmmm, just wanna eat you, Cas…” he mutters, kissing his way down Cas’ sternum, nuzzling his stubble against him before mouthing teasingly at his toned stomach, muscles flexing and relaxing with each gasp and shuddering breath. 

 

“Dean…” Cas is so aroused, the lace against his skin soft and empowering. He had so many images of what would or could happen when Dean saw him, left for hours stewing in thoughts of it as his cock pushed against the underwear desperately.

 

Dean sucks a hickey on his hip, dark and purple when he lets go. It leaves Castiel begging, shuddering beneath him. He chuckles softly, dragging his nose up the lace and length of his lover’s cock trapped inside of it. The teacher mouths at the fabric, tasting the bead of cum that’s soaked in by its sheath of green, moaning from the back of his throat with a wolfish grin plastered on his features.

 

Forget Christmas blessings, Cas was a blessing all in himself. Especially when Dean got him all to himself, full of need and want--and all the time in the world.

 

Placing a hand above Cas’ heart as it beats wildly inside its cage, against his open palm, Dean lowers Cas deeper into the pillows, and tugs him from behind a knee so he ends up spread beneath him and on display.

 

Cas swallows, the lights along the sides of the bed and around the headboard now casting a colorful glow against Dean’s face. Accenting all of its handsome features.

 

His eyes say more than words ever could as he takes control, sparkling and full of lust. Castiel whimpers, the Santa hat falling into his face as soft warm lips begin to pepper kisses along his inner thighs. He isn’t surprised when Dean removes the panties with his teeth, fingers pinning Cas’ eager hips to the mattress, his low chuckle echoing around the room.

 

Dean did say he could just eat him, after all, and he makes good on his word, nosing at Cas’ clenching entrance, teasing it in circles as he savors him so sweetly against his tongue. 

 

Cas always was like the sweetest honey, something about him always smelled so inviting when they got skin on skin, like summer rains and home. He tasted even better, truth be told, and Dean presses inside of his lover’s entrance, the older male whining as his fists find the bedsheets, twirled in his fingers as he stammers out in pleasure.

 

Dean opens him up that way, slowly, neverending as Dean fucks him on his tongue. Cas tries to shift, push against him, but Dean is having none of it, controlling it all and savoring him. It’s futile, really. Cas knows he isn’t going to move, with Dean bruising fingerprints into his hips, pinning him down--but Holy Mary, Mother of God, Dean was going to kill him before he even got to the good part. 

 

Cas sobs, tears pricking his eyes as he bears down and thrashes his head, the bell on his hat jingling excessively like sleigh bells. 

 

“Fuck, baby--” Cas chokes, Dean pressing in deeper, almost aggressively somehow and eating him like it’s the last time he’s ever tasting the forbidden fruit. Dean’s hand slides down, grasping him at the base of his dripping cock, squeezing down to make Cas ride the edge. 

 

Stars dance across his vision, dizzying as he bucks into his husband’s grip, trying to get anything he can to take off the building torment.

 

Dean thumbs the underside of Cas’ cock, hair messed from pressing against his lover’s body. Castiel admires him, eyes glinting like blue sapphires, a sound caught between laughing and crying escaping past his lips.  Dean sheds his blue jeans and boxers in one go, kicking them off the edge of their King sized bed, his belt clicking against the cherry oak of the floor as he loses his socks a quick second later.

 

In the lights and a soft silver glow from the window, Dean gives thanks for the glassy look below him in his lover’s lidded eyes, Cas’ lips parted in a soft “oh”, red from him biting them in pleasure, throbbing like his cock is now in his husband’s hand.  

 

Dean presses their lips together in a slow kiss, rolling their tongues as he fumbles to line them up, easing into the heat that no fire, nor passion could ever top. Cas tastes himself, the sugar from the cookie the man stole and whimpers into the wet heat of his forever love.

 

Their kiss breaks with a mutual groan, Dean very slowly sliding inside of him until there's nowhere left to go, nothing else to fill his lover with and both of them shudder violently.  

 

Cas always did love to fuck long and slow like this, opened up by mostly Dean’s cock--feeling the pain along the pleasure.

 

Outside the window, snow falls softly, the storm dying off.

 

Cas cups Dean’s face with shaky hand, his lover’s hand coming to cover it back in the same gesture. Cas closes his eyes as Dean nuzzles against it, his stubble prickling his palm, “I love you, Dean. So very much, darling.” 

 

Above him, despite their position, Dean nods, emotion in his throat, “I love you, too, Cas. My Christmas Angel.” He turns, kissing Cas’ fingers one by one, slowly pulling away and apart as he watches Cas melt in pleasure. Drowning in it,  _ in him. _

 

“Take me?” Cas whispers, and Dean slams back into him, nearly feral as he growls against the curve of Cas’ earlobe, pushing Cas’ arms down and sliding their hands together where they rest by the pillows.

 

“What do you say to us ruining the neighbor’s silent night?” 

 

Cas is pretty certain his brain finally fizzles out when he computes those words. And Dean is determined to make them a reality. In fact, if Santa Claus truly was coming to town, the way Cas was begging and whimpering for Dean and the way Dean not only encouraged it but  _ reveled _ in it, well, they definitely would have been put on the naughty list for sure.

 

While holiday parties come to an end, the finishing touches are put on turkeys, or trees are trimmed--Castiel fills their home with the sounds of lovemaking and pleasure, rather than Christmas music or clinking glasses and laughter. 

 

Dean takes him apart, body and soul, their bodies finding a rhythm with one another, souls entangled. It’s a dance they’ve done a thousand times or more, every bit of effort and emotion in every movement, with every breath that whispers and gasps one another’s names in the dark.

 

Cas squeezes his hands so hard, holding onto his husband as he cries out, locking them together in a grip that says forever when he trembles below him in ecstasy and pleasure.

 

Dean feels the fire engulf him from the inside out, panting as the oxygen seems to leave the room, his skin perspiring droplets that glisten like Cas’ chest and neck, gathering at the base of his skull and making him draw them both closer somehow as they slide together, pressing himself down on Cas, flesh to flesh. 

 

“ Любимая моя,” Castiel growls lowly, snapping his hips up with the accent that drives Dean into a frenzy, turns him into an absolute mess on a whim. It rolls off his lover's tongue, the Russian words always indicating that Cas is chasing an orgasm and Dean should catch up. 

 

The world fades away then, a faint off image of barely made noises and fuzzy, dizzying surroundings. Cas practically sobs for him, Dean pounding into him mercilessly. Cas’ cock bouncing between them, the mattress creaking beneath their weight. If anyone has heard them, he hopes it’s as good for them as it is for him right now in this moment. 

 

Castiel comes untouched without much warning, overwhelmed in his pleasure, seed spilling across his chest. Dean follows immediately, head thrown back as his eyes roll into his skull, vision hot and white as he disconnects with himself. A buzzing in his limbs. 

 

They collapse together, breathing heavily and sprawled against the sheets. 

It’s Dean who shifts first, an unknown amount of time later, rolling away as Cas reaches for the night stand. 

 

Dean’s reality fades into view, breath slow and heart finding a relaxed state again when Cas is gently cleaning him off with the wipes they keep nearby. Cas lowers himself to the bed, wraps around him like an octopus. The lights are turned off and the floor is covered in all the clothing, or lack of it, when it all started. No one moves to tidy it. Instead, Dean presses his lips into Cas’ forehead, dozy, warm and feeling complete. 

 

He holds Cas a little tighter, his leg trapping Cas’ close when the sheets and comforter shield them from the world. Cloaking them in their contentment, their afterglow and warmth.

 

It’s early yet, but in a few hours Dean knows he’ll rise again to slices of homemade apple pie sparkling in sugar, dusted in cinnamon, and mugs of honey Christmas tea while they watch “It’s A Wonderful Life” and fall asleep somewhere after “A Miracle On 34th Street”, curled together, Cas hogging the blankets, as per usual. 

 

They’ll sleep late, lazy and content till Dean builds the fire that pulls Cas from his sleepy state, mugs spiked with Bailey’s and Christmas Cinnamon Buns that Dean will take his time making. They’ll open a few presents, pajama pants and cotton t-shirts on their frames before Sam arrives to help them finish cooking, begging them to stop kissing under the mistletoe in front of him.

 

The day will end with more family, too much wine and more than enough food to feed an army, Dean knows he’ll complain about when he misses cheeseburgers. 

 

Dean smiles into Cas’ hair as he slips off to sugar plum fairies. They’ll need to work off Christmas dinner, too much pie and cookies, too much everything. 

 

He wonders how well Christmas lights can restrain Cas’ wrists, while Dean makes him tear away leftover Christmas wrapping off his skin. All before making Cas ride him till his legs give out. 

 

Castiel nips his neck where his face is buried and growls about sleeping. Dean chuckles softly. Cas knows him too well, and everyday Dean finds a way to love him more.

 

Christmas is just one more reminder as to all the reasons why.

**Author's Note:**

> “Любимая моя”- My love via Russian native speaker.


End file.
